


Baby Photos

by GendrysNorthernWench



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dís is an evil mastermind, Family Fluff, M/M, Poor Thorin, her and Bilbo will take over the world, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 09:02:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GendrysNorthernWench/pseuds/GendrysNorthernWench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin leaves Dís and Bilbo alone. It is possibly his worst idea ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Photos

**Author's Note:**

> This has been plaguing me since about 3am and finally I've written it! HUZZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
> 
> I do not own The Hobbit or any associated characters and or franchises.

The first time Bilbo sees a picture of a younger than his thirty something Thorin, he’s about seventeen, toned, tanned and drop dead gorgeous, in shorts that really should be classed as indecent and a rugby shirt.

The second time, it’s of Thorin the day Fili –he assumes- was born, and this time he’s in a rumpled suit, sleeves pushed up to the elbow, tie coming undone, a few days stubble and positively radiating with pride –looking no less gorgeous-.

It isn’t until he visits Dís and the boys –who Thorin has gone to pick up from school- on Kili’s fourteenth birthday that Bilbo gets to see the pictures that really interest him.

The dreaded baby photos.

Dís, ever the proud mother has photos of her boys on every available surface, a few of her and her brothers, their parents and their grandfather scattered in between, but the one that catches Bilbo’s eye is of three young children.

There’s a blonde toddler who looks startling like Fili trying to eat his foot, a sleeping babe in a bouncy chair that could well be Kili, but it’s the chubby raven haired child that interests Bilbo, because none of Fili and Kili’s cousins are dark and the picture looks a little too worn to be recent.

“Dís,” Bilbo calls from his seat in the front room “Who are the three children in that picture? The photo’s too old to be of the boys” he makes a waving motion towards the gilt frame as Dís sticks her head around the doorframe and the ensuing grin is positively predatory.

“That, dear Bilbo, is the first picture my mother ever took of Frerin, Thorin and I.” Dís says, coming to sit next to her –dearest- big brother’s boyfriend, plucking the picture from its place on the mantel piece –and really, it’s a surprise he’s never noticed it before-.

“So, the child trying to devour his foot is, Frerin?” Bilbo ventures, receiving a small nod as conformation “So, that means, but, no! That can’t be Thorin! He looks so young and, and well squishy…” he deduces, because he knows Dís is the youngest child by almost five years –quiet a drama it caused when Dís came home at fifteen pregnant by her twenty something boyfriend-.

Again, Dís nods, face breaking into a huge grin as she watches Bilbo’s face, who, to his credit hasn’t started howling with laughter –as of yet- go from shock, to disbelief and then to somewhat indignant.

“And he has the nerve to tease me about being ‘plump…’” he mutters, drawing a finger over the picture of his beloved.

“Oh yes, our Thorin was a wee bit husky as a sprog! He didn’t hit a growth spurt until he was fifteen either, until then, he was the shortest in his entire year” Dís cackles, rubbing her hands in somewhat malicious glee.

“Please, tell me you have more” Bilbo begs, and his face lights up when Dís gives him the ‘one moment’ signal and rushes off –hopefully to find my chubby Thorin snaps-

When she appears several minutes later, two rather large photo albums tucked under one arm, and a tray of tea and biscuits balanced on the other Bilbo can’t help but cheer.

As the pair get comfortable, pouring and doctoring tea and settling the plate of chocolate biscuits between them, the photos are examined in almost painful detail, Dís sharing as many stories about them as she can –mostly about Thorin-, and what a range it is, everything from Thorin curled up on top of a pile of socks, to him mid sprint across the garden, naked as a jaybird in all his squishy glory with Thraín chasing after him.

It isn’t until they come across one of a three year old thorin, hand stuck in a jar of cookies with a back to front saucepan on his head that the pair lose all hope of sensibility.

The howls and shrieks of laughter can be heard from down the street.

When Thorin reaches the bottom of the street in his x-type jag, both boys chattering on about their day –Kili jumped two grades and Fili started school a year late so they’re in the same year- and hears obnoxious laughter, his blood turns to ice in his veins.

He’d recognise that cackle anywhere.

The cackle that always meant no good, and the intermittent giggles of his darling boyfriend –soon to be fiancé hopefully- spells disaster for the oldest Durin boy, and he prays to any God that will listen that whatever they find so amusing has absolutely nothing to do with him –or, his Mahal forbid, _baby pictures-_. The closer they get to the white washed town house, the quieter all three become, Fili and Kili sharing looks of terror and despair, when their Ama starts laughing like that, embarrassment is on the horizon, and they contemplate begging Thorin to ‘get stuck in traffic’ for several hours, unaware that their uncle is having very similar thoughts.

It’s with a great deal of reluctance Thorin pulls into the driveway, cuts the engine and walks towards the door as if he’s marching to his execution –which is entirely possible, he still hasn’t forgiven Dís for hacking half his hair off playing ‘castles and prisoners’- behind him, his nephews glance between themselves and the door, weighing up their chances of bolting before their mum bodily hauls them in.

With a steadying breath, Thorin unlocks the door, and nearly slams it shut again when the laughing gets even more raucous –because honestly, what have they found that is so amusing?-

He herds the boys in first, watching them toe off their shoes and drop their bags at the bottom of the stairs before _cautiously_ because Thorin Durin doesn’t do afraid thank you very much. And he can almost feel the blood drain from his face, sat on the lap of his –very faced and teary eyed- partner and sister are two big tomes, and he knows exactly what’s in them.

Kili clears his throat awkwardly from behind Thorin and the two laughing adults look up, only to fall back into hysterics at the sight of Thorin, who can almost feel the blood drain from his face.

“Ah! Brother dear, I was just showing Bilbo some old family photos” Dís grins, choking back another round of giggles.

If possible, Bilbo turns even redder, his luahgs becoming so high pitched they’re not audible to anything that doesn’t have four legs and a fur coat as he claps his hands like some sort of curly, demented seal.

“H…Hello… Tho…Thorin” Bilbo gasps, rising to greet his ashen faced boyfriend “Dís was just, hehe, showing me…” the smaller man dissolved back into giggles, and Thorin is mildly concerned that Bilbo will pass out from lack of oxygen.

“Ama, have you and Uncle Bilbo been smoking Mr. Gandalf’s pipe weed again?” Fili asks, sticking his head around the bulk of his uncle, eyeing the pair concernedly.

“No, no my boy, come here! Your old Ama has something to show you” Dís says, motioning for her sons to come and join her –they dare not deny her- and they trot towards her.

As the brothers scan the photos –which are definitely not them- they start to snicker, which rapidly descends into full bellied bellowing laughter

“Oh Mahal! Look at Uncle Thorin, he’s so, so squishy!” Fili crows, inadvertently setting his mother and Bilbo off again

“That, is exactly what I said!” Bilbo replies, snorting at the scowl gracing Thorin’s face “Look Dís! He’s got the same expression on as he did when he got the potty stuck on his head!”

And sure enough, the dark look is an exact mirror image of the picture.

“Ahaha! Poor ickle marshmallow, look at him!”

Dís stands on unsteady feet, tottering over to her brother to chuck him under the chin.

“I am going to murder you in your sleep, sister dear.” Thorin growls, taking a –not very menacing step- towards his younger sister, who grins cheekily in response

“Now marshmallow, that’s not very nice” she grins wickedly “and anyways, you’ve got to catch me first!” before sprinting around her brother, and up the stairs in a series of fluid turns and shrieks of laughter.

When Thorin gives chase, swearing in at least three languages, his nephews and partner damn near kill themselves laughing, Kili rolling from his chair with a thump.

The screams when Thorin finally catches his sister are heard throughout the neighbourhood.

* * *

 

Several days later, when Thorin proposes on a sandy beach in the Caribbean, the sun setting behind them, Bilbo all but throws himself at Thorin and kisses him fully on the mouth.

It’s only when they break away, gasping for air, that Bilbo grins –in a way that is far too reminiscent of Dís- and says

“Only if we can have a marshmallow themed wedding”

Before sprinting off down the beach, giggling wildly as Thorin gives chase.


End file.
